


Natural Gifts

by annejumps



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Office, Canon Disabled Character, Charles in a Wheelchair, Double Penetration, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 11:12:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8665387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: "You know me, darling,” he’d said with a wink. “I like to maximize my naughtiness.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afrocurl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/gifts).



> Prompt: "Jean has so much power - in either trilogy - and I'd love a story that explores how they all work together. It can be romantic, platonic or some combination of the two depending on preferences. AUs of any kind are also cool if you want to make one of them some non-human (and non-mutant) figure."

_Enjoying yourself, darling?_ Charles thinks at Erik from the other side of the hotel ballroom as he takes a long drink of champagne. He catches his reflection in a large decorative mirror and runs his free hand through his hair before launching enthusiastically into a good-natured argument with his firm’s vice president of media—as charmingly as possible, of course. One doesn’t preside over the largest and most successful mutant PR firm in the world for twenty years without charm.

 _Oh, yes_ , Erik answers sarcastically, standing by the punch bowl, holding a champagne glass of his own. After many years of communicating telepathically with Charles, Erik, who unlike him is not a telepath, has plenty of practice with making his feelings known to Charles. _Nothing more wonderful to me than a company holiday party in a hotel ballroom_.

 _But we must put in an appearance, and it’s the nicest hotel in the city. And you do like seeing our Jean in that black velvet dress, do you not?_ Charles teases.

 _I’d prefer to see her out of it_ , Erik thinks at him, along with a thought of their newest intern at the party in nothing but her black stilettos. 

Charles pretends shock, but he’s delighted, of course. _Erik! What a caveman sentiment here in 2016, I’m appalled. Jean_ , he says, reaching out to her mind to find her attention already turned toward him, _our Erik’s picturing you walking about in here naked, then getting on your knees and sucking his cock. Oh, terribly sorry, that last bit was me_.

Jean sighs at him mentally, amused, but he can tell her heart rate’s ticked up, and she’s getting a bit tingly. Ah, the vitality of youth.

The effect on Erik is apparent, and he buttons his blazer, the metal chandeliers rattling slightly. _Damn you both_.

 _What? I will_ , Jean continues teasing, a smile in her voice Charles can almost feel. _Get rid of everyone, find us some mistletoe, and I’ll get naked and give you a very special kiss under it_.

 _We could freeze everyone—_ Charles suggests, but Erik’s already saying no. He’s a very private man when it comes to this sort of thing, and the thought of a roomful of people watching or even just being present, even if it’s an illusion and they won’t really have any idea, doesn’t crank his motor like it cranks Charles’. And actually making everyone at the party leave is a bridge too far for Charles. 

No, getting the three of them back to his flat is enough for him. It’s just a question of extricating himself, without making it clear to anyone else in the firm what they’re up to, especially where Jean is concerned. 

Jean is a brilliant student and an excellent intern in creative despite being a sophomore; Charles is scheming to get her to be his personal, direct-report intern, envisioning late nights in his office with her astride his lap, spread out on his desk, and whatever else they can come up with, Erik popping in as often as possible. “What’s stopping us from doing that now?” she’d asked, and he’d replied, hand cupped casually over her breast and under her bra at the time, “Darling, it’s so much naughtier if you’re _my_ intern” and given her nipple a pinch. 

Erik had snorted, from the other side of the bed. “Secretly fucking a nineteen-year-old student intern at the company you own isn’t ‘naughty’ enough for you, Charles?”

“It's a start. You know me, darling,” he’d said with a wink. “I like to maximize my naughtiness.”

Now, he says to Jean, _I’m not quite done discussing this incredibly scintillating topic with Armando, so perhaps we could keep Erik entertained until such time, eh?_ With that, he nudges Erik’s mind to make it feel as though someone’s caressing the front of his trousers. 

Still on the other side of the room, Jean joins him in telepathic illusion-creation, but instead of making it feel like he’s being rubbed, she makes Erik feel like he’s being licked. Erik grunts and downs the rest of his champagne, blazer still buttoned and his other hand in his pocket, and stalks toward the men’s room, setting the glass down on a passing caterer’s tray.

 _Oh, now, Erik darling_ , Charles objects. _Don’t go off to have a wank in the men’s room. Save that erection for us_.

 _Then let’s go to your place_ , Erik grits out. _As soon as possible_.

 _But it’s our holiday party, Erik. I’m the owner, I can’t simply leave in the middle_ , Charles teases.

 _You’ve owned the company for twenty years, you can leave whenever you like_.

 _All right, all right_. “Armando,” Charles says aloud, “this has been absolutely fascinating, and I look forward to continuing our conversation at another time, but I simply must get going—I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve a physical therapy appointment tomorrow morning, quite early, I’m afraid.” He smiles, apologetic but charming.

He and Erik leave together, genially quarreling as they usually do, this time over some new interdepartmental policy—no one is surprised to see it, even as Erik pushes his wheelchair. Part of the fun of their very deeply rooted relationship is arguing in public and leaving only the most perceptive suspecting that they’re actually sleeping together and have been for ages. 

When it comes to Jean, of course, they’re scrupulously circumspect—her academic career mustn’t be jeopardized. But no one would look askance at, say, her getting into a cab with them. At least, Charles can do some gentle nudging to have them overlook it before they get suspicious.

In said cab, Charles is tempted to turn the cab driver’s attention away from them and get a hand up the slit in Jean’s long dress, and ponders the option while mentally airing the idea to them both, but decides against it—it’s not a long ride, and part of the appeal for him sometimes is the anticipation. 

Jean leans slowly into him, close to his ear. “Tease,” she whispers. He smiles, and huffs out a laugh under his breath.

\-------

“I want—” Jean is saying, and Charles is more interested in cupping her bare breasts in his hands, kneading them, they’re such a lovely perfect shape— She grabs his wrists and pulls his hands down. _You’re not listening_ , she chides.

“What is it, darling? What is it you want?” Charles slides his hands up her thighs instead, and squeezes her hips, rocking her on his cock. She’s so utterly naked and it’s wonderful, it’s always wonderful—

She tosses her long red hair, and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. “I want what you said before, that time. You know. Both of you at once.”

Charles goes still. “Are you sure?” he asks, not daring to move. Erik’s gone still as well from where he’s sitting on his heels next to them—he likes to kiss Jean while she rides Charles, all the better if she wanks him off at the same time, although they haven’t gotten to that stage yet tonight—and he looks at Charles, eyebrows raised and holding his breath. Charles has no need to read his mind just then.

“I only mentioned that in passing, you know, as a possibility, you don’t have to,” Charles says carefully, hoping.

“I want to,” she says, rolling her hips and making Charles inhale. 

(Charles did suffer a spinal injury ages ago that put him in a wheelchair, but he’s been able to use his power to enhance, to an extent, the feeling he does still have below his injury. He did need the assistance of one little blue pill tonight, but that, however, might be due more to his age. Well, no matter, science was a wonder regardless. As was telepathy, since he could feel how this felt for Jean, as well. He didn’t, however, want to overdo tapping into that, lest he become too accustomed to something so interesting and novel.)

“Wh—Why?” Charles can’t help asking, although Erik’s giving him a look telling him to shut up—again nothing he needs to read his mind for—and he’d be kicking himself if he could move his legs.

“It’s Christmas,” Jean says with a shrug. 

“It’s December sixteenth,” Charles points out, as Erik says “I’m Jewish.”

Jean tilts her head and stares at Charles, then turns to give Erik the same look, brow raised.

“Right,” Charles says. “Erik. Get the lube again, will y—” Erik immediately picks it up from where they’d cast it aside earlier, along with a condom from the box they’d still had out, quirking a brow. “Right then, get back there and get to work.”

Squirting lube on his fingers, Erik gives him another look. “If directing me makes you feel like you’re doing more than just lying there—”

“I’m not just lying here, I’m… helping,” Charles says, one hand snaking its way back to one of Jean’s breasts and the other moving to pinch her clit. That always makes her arch her back, which is nice to see, and it seems to distract her from what Erik’s fingers are currently doing. Despite her bravado, she’s nervous. Erik is not a small man. 

Still, it’s not that she doesn’t want to try this—she does. In fact, they’re all a little surprised they haven’t done this already, after Charles’ offhand mention of it weeks ago. Charles is sure the champagne has done a lot of work in getting them to this point tonight, but even so, none of them are actually drunk. 

“Have you done this before, sweetheart?” Charles asks, gently rubbing Jean, watching her bite her lip, flushed, feeling her nails lightly scrape his chest as she flexes her fingers restlessly. She probably has done it; no telling what the college kids consider run-of-the-mill these days.

“No,” she says, shifting on his cock and in time with Erik’s fingers, now. 

“Ah.” Charles maintains a low-level awareness of Erik’s slow, steady preparation of Jean, and of how it feels for her as well: she’s approaching another little orgasm, from the feel of Charles inside of her as well as his gentle continuous rubbing, and the added stimulation of Erik’s fingers in a heretofore largely unstimulated region. Charles closes his eyes for a moment, then takes his hand from her breast to pick up hers on his chest and press a kiss to her knuckles. “We’ll show you a good time, love, I promise.” He smiles at her.

A firmer pinch to her clit and she’s rocking on him again, panting. God, he loves the little breathless noises she makes, the way the feeling rocketing through her neurons seeps from her mind into theirs. It’s delightful, the way women can have these continual little rippling peaks for ages without needing any psionic enhancement or assistance.

Erik nuzzles Jean’s neck and puts an arm around her for a moment to pull her close, murmuring instruction, bringing up goosebumps on her arms as he whispers in her ear. She bites her lip, listening, then nods, leaning over—very slowly—as Erik puts the condom on. For the time being, Charles stops rubbing her, lest she get overstimulated (that, and the fact that the leaning makes it more difficult), and frames her hips with his hands. 

“Slowly, Erik, slow as you can,” Charles tells him, Jean’s hair brushing his skin, looking like a curtain of flame. 

“Thank you, Charles, I know that,” Erik says, face flushed and sweat on his brow. Concentration is always an arresting look on Erik. Damn him, the man is even more gorgeous now than he was twenty years ago, when he was the most gorgeous man Charles had ever seen. Catching that thought, Erik gives him a little tilt of the brow, and a smirk. “Don’t distract me, Charles.”

“Who, me? Never,” Charles answers with a smile. Jean tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and he scans her expression for signs of distress—she’s not emanating any panic, but it’s only considerate to check. “All right, love?”

She nods, closing her eyes, and he can hear a little breathiness in her exhalations; perhaps she’s well on her way to getting to a point where she’s beyond words. That’s always lovely. When she opens her eyes, he smiles at her; she’s a picture, lips parted, red hair hanging loose, a faint pink flush tinting her pale skin down her neck to her breasts, which are squarely in Charles’ view with her leaning over. He gives her hips an encouraging squeeze. 

Erik stills, closing his eyes and tightening his jaw—he’s in, now, and Jean is drawing deep breaths, trembling a bit. Charles hums a questioning sound, and after a moment she nods again.

“Right, then,” he says, and she rocks on him again, experimentally, as Erik, lips pressed together, draws almost all the way out and then presses slowly back in, a hand spread on Jean’s back. 

“Go on then, Jean,” Charles murmurs. Shifting forward, she nearly lets Charles’ cock slide out, then takes him in fully once more, and then again. Erik starts to move now, both hands on Jean’s back.

As Jean fucks herself on Charles, Erik goes in counterpoint at times, in the same rhythm at others; Charles rocks along as best he can, fingers digging into Jean’s hips. She’s closed her eyes, lips parted until she bites her lip and stares intently at Charles, blinking. His Jean, always sensing and feeling things so deeply.

Jean sends him how this feels for her: Charles thick and full inside her where she’s more sensitive (God, how very sensitive) and Erik’s impressive length stretching her in a way she’s not really experienced before, the steady two-part thrusting rhythm buffeting her, pummelling her, propelling her toward a building peak. The hollow of her throat is slick with sweat. It’s the slightly panicky feeling of being almost too full that’s providing the novelty that’s arousing her so much, and she’s sending that arousal in waves to both of them. 

Charles dips into Erik’s mind; Erik can, to an extent, feel Charles’ cock through Jean, not so much a direct stimulation as a sense of it, and it’s affecting Erik to an extent Erik finds surprising. Charles smiles widely at him over Jean’s shoulder at that, touched. “How romantic.” Erik huffs, and Charles winks at him. “How is she for you, darling?”

Erik takes a few moments to respond, and when he does, it’s a bit breathless. “She’s perfect.”

“Of course. That’s our girl. I’d expect nothing less.” As much as Charles wants to get his hands back on Jean’s breasts, she’s clearly enjoying his hands on her hips, directing her, pulling her down on himself and keeping her where Erik needs her even as she rolls her hips in time with the thrusts, against the resistance. He smiles at Jean again, who’s still looking dazed, cheeks pink. “I may get you a special present for Christmas this year, and then you can pay him back, eh?” He sends her (and Erik) an image of herself wearing an especially large strap-on, Erik swearing and begging on his hands and knees in front of her. “I think you’d both enjoy that, hm?”

“Yeah,” Jean agrees, breathless; Erik, for his part, just grunts, redder in the face now. 

“Do you want me to make you come, sweetheart?” he murmurs to Jean, noticing her tells, the higher pitch to her little gasps. She’s enjoyed it when he’s pushed that button in her head (and it’s always a delight watching her conceal her reaction in public, especially in meetings). At this angle, she can grind her clit on his pubic bone. He spreads his fingers wider on her hips. “Or are you going to make yourself come?”

“I’m gonna—Oh—Charles—” she gasps, her brows drawing together sharply, a little cry escaping her as she grinds down on him, hard, coming before he gets into her head enough to do it for her. She rubs her palms mindlessly over his chest, his nipples, sending little sparks through him on each pass (his upper body’s been more sensitive ever since his injury) that make him gasp.

Her clenching (and those little sounds) sets Erik off, his thrusts getting faster and shorter. Jean closes her eyes, quaking, riding out Erik’s thrusts as he slows down, pressing deep as he comes. Charles siphons off the pleasure they’re both feeling, enhancing his own at watching and sensing them, and feeds it back to them. Jean trembles with it, seeming almost to glow with the sensation rushing through her. Charles and Jean both draw out Erik’s peak, Charles closing his eyes for a moment as it hits a white-hot intensity for all three of them at once, and then he draws that out too, until it bursts as if under its own weight, leaving them wrung out, sweaty and hot and panting.

Catching his breath, Erik slides a hand caressingly down Jean’s back, then draws out, and tosses the condom in the bin. But Jean, it seems, is in no hurry to move off Charles’ cock. She sits up, grinding down on him again.

“I’ve got a few more minutes in me if you want to come again, love,” Charles tells her. 

Hands raking down Charles’ chest, tilting her head back, Jean comes one last time, Erik behind her cupping her breasts, Charles’ hand busy at her clit. She’s gorgeous as always, body, mind, and soul. Perfect, like Erik had said.

\-------

In his boxers once more, Erik gets back in bed and stretches out alongside Charles under the covers, pressing close to him after leaning in for a quick kiss. “Exhausted, are you?” Charles asks him, smiling. “Mmf,” is all Erik says in reply, muffled against Charles’ arm.

Jean, in some green satin slip of a thing Charles had given her for her birthday, floats gracefully into the room a foot off the ground just to show off a bit. She gets under the covers next to Charles on his other side, sitting up first to bend down and kiss him goodnight—a bit of a tradition of theirs. He gently tips her chin to keep her there, and kisses her until he senses her stirring again, at which point he stops; she has to pull back to take a breath. He smiles at her. “You're such a tease,” she accuses with a laugh, raking a hand through her hair in a show of mock exasperation.

Charles raises his hands in a pretend attempt to plead innocence. “I'm just a tired old man with only so many little blue pills,” he says with a wink. She settles in against him, still flushed (he catches a hint of her briefly considering masturbation and deciding she’s too tired). “Merry Christmas, love,” Charles tells her. “You’ve got your stockings stuffed, Erik’s hung by the chimney with care, I’d say it’s shaping up to be a perfect holiday season.”

Jean turns over and groans into the pillow. “You’re awful.”

“He really is,” Erik agrees, also muffled. With his power, he toggles the switch on the metal lamp on the nightstand, leaving the room lit by the streetlights outside, diffused by thick curtains.

“I am,” Charles says, tone turning sincere. “Awfully lucky. I don’t know what I’d do without you two,” he adds, sending them waves of affection and sentiment. Jean bears it with good grace, letting Charles indulge himself and reflecting some of his feelings in kind, but Erik is still, even after twenty years, a bit uncomfortable with Charles’ openly expressing tenderness toward him, even as part of him craves it desperately.

“‘Cutthroat PR potentate Charles Xavier’,” Erik says dryly to offset the way he’s turning pink, citing a description of Charles that ran in a front-page article in the local business section last year and which quickly became notorious around the office (Charles had the article framed and hung behind his desk).

“Mm, and a very happy Hanukkah to you, beloved. It’s because of all of us, working together, that we’re the best mutant PR firm in the world. But I mean more than just business with you two, and you know it.” Jean turns to tuck herself against him, and he puts an arm over her, squeezing gently, before continuing. “You’re both so lovely, so unique and wonderful, and it means so much to me in an industry with so much backstabbing that I’m so lucky as to witness your splendidness and help you grow every day.”

Jean smiles at him, open and relaxed; he remembers when she first came on as an intern, not so very long ago, unsure and clumsy, not fully in control of her powers, and smiles back.

He shifts to kiss her forehead, and she says, thoughtful, “If you get me a strap-on, make it a metal one.”

Charles laughs aloud. “Yes, of course.” He adds, _New Ben Wa balls for you and Erik to play with as a Hanukkah surprise for him, I think?_ and her smile widens as she nods. 

Erik, meanwhile, has already started to doze off, sated and content, as Charles always wants for him.

“Go to sleep, love,” he tells Jean, soft. “Sweet dreams.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [redacted] for all your help!


End file.
